The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-08-13

got his promotion and his salary was
raised. They drove out together TO the
country and finally found little cottage
that seemed as If it had been made for
them. 1t had pretty sloping roof, and
little porch covered with rose vines, and
q nice chicken yard, and, best Of all, it
was not too far away for Jim to walk in
and out every day. They we're both de-
lighted, and decided to take the cottage
at once.
There was no lack of interest in Armies
life now. She and Jim had 30 much to
talk about, and 80 many things to plan,
that finally Mrs. Lynch declared Annie
talked in her sleep about tables and
chairs. She was not strong enough to go
out to the cottage often, but every Sun
day Jim went out, and he made little
| plan of each room, and Annie wrote
down just where she wanted every piece
Of furniture. Her own chair was to stand
by the sunny kitchen window, and above
it should hang the robins cage. He had
not been happy in his cage, nor become
tame. Perhaps like Annie he longed for
the fresh, breezy airs Of the country, for
the rustic OF the green leaves and the
scent OF flowers.
At last everything was ready, and they
we're to move the next day. Annie was
sitting in her easy chair waiting for Jim
to come and pack the last few things.
She was 30 happy that she could not be-
lieve it trne. When she shut her eyes
she could see the little sunny kitchen,
the table set for supper, and herself sit
ting in the doorway watching for Jim to
come. And then, when Jim came, che
knew just how he would say, "Well, lit
tie sister, isn't this nice? How are the
chickens?" and then he would run up
stairs whistling at the top of his voice
Harkl What was that? A dull jar
ring rumble, then little silence, and
then cries and screams of women.
Annie's heart stood still for an second;
then went on again at double rate, and
she started from her chair. The sound
was not unknown in that little mining
town. Annie had heard it once before,
when che was very young. and she had
never forgotten it. 1t meant death-sud-
den, terrible death-to strong, hearty men;
it meant crushed lives. broken hearts and
hopeless futures to poor women, wives
and mothers OF miners. Already crowds
we're running through the streets toward
the mines, and the cry "The mine has
caved," filled the air.
Annie limped to the door, and pulling
it open tottered out. Mrs Lynch who
had been paying a farewell visit to a
neighbor, came running toward her.
"Ohl Mrs. Lynch" gasped Annie,
(which is it? Is it Jim's shaft?" 1t seem-
ed as il her very life hung on Mrs.
Lynch's answer.
"Anniel Oh, poor child, poor Child
and Mrs. Lynch, whose husband had
been killed in just such way, burst into
tears.
That was enough, Annie was answered.
She gasped for breath, and caught at the
door-post for support. Then suddenly
she started forward. "Oh! it may not be
true. must go, must find out for my.
self. Jimi Jiml' Then her strength
seemed to fail, and she sank down at
Mrs. Lynch's feet sobbing, 81 cannot,
cannot" Mrs. Lynch lifted her up and
carried her back into the room, and then
there came time of horrible waiting.
The reports from the mine were con.
flicting. One man hurrying by would
say that hundreds were killed; the next
one said there was hope of saving all; the
rescuers we're working as hard as men
could work to reach the shaft. Then
came word that it would be days before
the men could be found, and then almost
at once came news that they had been
reached and that some were alive. The
slow night wore away and daylight
broke the day that the new life was to
have begun for Annie and Jim. As she
saw the first beam of sunlight come in
at the window, Annie turned her head
aside and two bitter tears rolled down
her cheeks. But she could not cry--the
weight on her heart that seemed crushing
out her very life, was too great for tears.
Presently Mrs. Lynch rose and stole
out and Annie was left alone. She lay
there in her chair and watched the
shadows of the window bars slowly
creep along the wall. She felt strangely
weak and numb. She could not under.
stand why she did not suffer more. How
could she sit there, quiet and fearless,
when Jim might be lying dead, or crush
ed under some terrible beam. Or per-
haps not dead, but prisoned, helpless,
only TO suffer lingering fortunes worse
than death. AS this thought came to her,
she started forward with a groaD, and
her eyes fell on the robin, pining in his
cage, his head bent, and his eyes dull,
looking go unhappy. II will let him
out" thought Annie, and she rose slowly
and painfully, and limped across the
room to where the cage stood on chest
of drawers, and carried it to her chair.
She felt so strangely weak that she
could hardly open the window, but at
last she managed TO, and then she open
ed the door and waited. At first the robin
did not see, but suddenly he understood
that freedom lay there before him; he